RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Wrapped up in deserted desires, life sits impatiently on
lonely islands, trampled by the ingenuity of man, left
broken on forgotten sands.
Illuminated, not by any facts of light, only blackness
caused from lack of sight.
Lonely vigils being kept by lonely people, afraid to let
go of themselves, afraid of being lost.
Sitting upon jutting rocks, fishing mindlessly for wisdom
in pools of parkened slime.
Brought up from murky depths of indecision, pulled on shore,
roughly thrown upon the heap of latent desire.
Then being left alone and stranded, wrapping itself up in
deserted fires, sitting alone on deserted islands.
Wrapped up in darkness now, only fireflies can find their
way back from reality's deserted shores.
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